


You Can't Become Nothing

by Akuuni (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Egg Laying, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Oviposition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 18:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Akuuni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A more modern troll society, where mutants are allowed to live, but have very little rights, and are often forced by highbloods who catch them in heat to carry, lay, and care for their young. </p><p>Karkat Vantas is such a mutant, who has been caught in heat by the highblood Kurloz Makara.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can't Become Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> I take requests. Hit me up on my tumblr "gildedgossamer" and send me prompts :)
> 
> Fairly new at fic writing. Feedback appreciated!
> 
> It's possible that this may be countinued.

You are a mutant, you remind yourself as the cop that pulled Kurloz over ignores your bindings in favor of your eyes. Not a person, you remind yourself as he lets Kurloz off with a thumbs up and a smile. 

You are a tool used to shape the next generation, only allowed to exist because you are more fertile then most. You remind yourself of all the things you have been told as trolls snicker at you when the car stops at red lights and signs.  
No one gives the mutant tied up in the backseat of the highbloods car a second look or thought, besides maybe wishing they were the driver, the troll getting lucky and catching a mutant in heat.

You thought he was Gamzee. You could trust Gamzee, he already had Tavros to be his host. He didn't need you. You were stupid. You had seen his car pull up, and it didn't occur to you that someone could have stolen it. It didn't cross your mind that Gamzee could have let his brother borrow it until Kurloz got a fist bump from him and a good luck thrown to the both of you as you were carried into the house bridal style.

You had let him in of your own will. There was no forced entry. You were in heat and he was a highblood. That would be all the law cared about. All that the world would care about. That and if you got knocked up right away, If you were a good and complacent homemaker for your gracious highblood owner, if you made a good host for his young, if you raised them well, if you made your new family’s meals. If you did as you were expected to. 

Kurloz tells you that this will be for the best as he unbuttons your jeans. You just lay there, unsure if the obedience is from his chucklevoodoos, a lack of the will to fight, or because you want it as much as they always said you would. You've never heard his voice before this, not at any of the parties you’d met him at. You suppose you’ll be hearing it a lot now. You think about how it doesn't sound rough or aggressive in the slightest, slightly sweet. He doesn't like he’s about to make you his property, take your innocence, and force you to raise his kids. He sounds pleased with himself, like he’s trying to comfort you, like he has no ill intent at all.

His hands are gentle when he unzips you and pulls your pants down. They are delicate when he folds them off to the side. His tongue is slick and smooth and warm when licks up your tears. It is careful when it works your entrance to get you wet, to stretch you so you can take him. You think to yourself that this was inevitable, that you were lucky to get someone with such patience and restraint. It doesn't stop your quick, sharp sobs or your frantic, panicked shivers.

Your wails are loud and needy and plentiful in comparison to his short and controlled moaning and grunts. His bulge is thick and large, stretching your nook quite a bit, but not painful. His thrusts are slow, his movements drawn out. You try and think about what your new life will be like. If you’ll be dressed up like a doll, in soft silk dresses and jewelry. If you’ll be able to talk freely or have have your friends over. If you’ll be comfortable and happy. 

He picks up the pace, lifts your legs higher. You try to wonder what your kids will be like, but the thoughts drown in a sea of bliss. You cry out his name, then gasp as he cums, fills your egg sack with his genetic material. He shifts to your side, pulling you close and putting his arm around you and his other hand onto your stomach, applying light pressure but mostly letting the fluid empty out of your nook on its own. He coos and shushes at you until you stop crying.  
You don’t fight when he puts the ring on your finger. You don’t struggle when he clips the collar around your neck. You don’t flinch when he brands you with his symbol, on your shoulder and neck and thigh. You don’t cry when he gets you chipped. You already knew you wouldn't get out of this. The law doesn't care about your misery. The rust-bloods don’t care. Not even the humans care. You can’t be sure that you care.

He pulls you closer in his sleep, cuddling you. You wish you were nothing. You feel the eggs shift in you, grow in you. You know you were nothing. You see your friends smile and congratulate the two of you. You became something. You can’t be worse off. You can’t become nothing. You already were. You snuggle back into him. At least now you can pretend you have purpose.


End file.
